Gospel Story Finder

Indeed, the real challenges had begun after they’d arrived in New York. In order to get to the Missouri River, where they would be outfitted with a small wagon, they had to ride the train in open cattle cars because all other kinds of cars were being used in the Civil War. At times there was barely standing room in the cattle cars! Some passengers sat in the doorways, their legs dangling precariously over the edge. The pungent odors of so many people traveling in such crowded conditions, mixed with the stench the cattle had left behind, made the journey very unpleasant.
Not only were the cattle cars crowded and uncomfortable, but also dangers abounded. Once, sparks from the wood-burning engine flew wildly about and set some of the passengers’ clothing on fire. Fortunately the flames were quickly smothered by nearby travelers.
Times like this evening, when the train stopped for a while, were a blessing—families could eat together away from the noisy crowds and the heat and smell of the cattle cars. Keturah and Keziah especially enjoyed running and stretching their legs, breathing fresh air, and not worrying about soot or sparks from the engine. Even baby Edward cooed and smiled when Eliza placed him on a blanket in the cool shade of a bush before preparing dinner.
The call of “All aboard!” interrupted their meal. Hastily the family gathered their few belongings, and Eliza told Keziah and Keturah to take their father’s hands.
Turning to pick up baby Edward, Eliza’s heart leaped into her throat. Her precious babe was not where she had laid him just an hour earlier! Keziah and Keturah said that they hadn’t moved their baby brother while playing. Frantically the family began to search the nearby bushes. While she searched, Eliza fervently prayed for Heavenly Father’s help in finding her son.
“All aboard!” sounded in Eliza’s ears again. The train was about to leave!
Suddenly a flash of lightning lit the sky, and she saw where her sleeping son lay. Scooping him up, she gratefully thanked Heavenly Father for His loving and watchful care.
It didn’t matter to Eliza that she had sacrificed much for the gospel, or that she would ride many more miles in cattle cars before walking west alongside a wagon for hundreds of miles more. She was just grateful for the gospel and the knowledge it gave her of a loving Heavenly Father Who was watching over her and her family.

Sue Ellen sniffed the acrid smell of burning leaves and felt the wind blowing her curls. She looked up through the gold and red leaves still on the maple trees in her backyard and thought she’d never seen the sky so blue. Today was Saturday and she was restless. “Mom,” she asked, “what’ll I do?”
Her mother laughed. “Why, Sue Ellen, on a nice October day like this, I’d make a house of leaves.”
“Oh, Mom,” Sue Ellen said, “how can anyone do that?”
“It’s easy and lots of fun,” her mother said. “Get your little rake from the toolshed and rake up a big pile of leaves. Then when you get tired of jumping into them, let me know and I’ll show you how to make a house.”
Sue Ellen’s best friend Linda lived next door. She couldn’t think of anything to do either until she saw Sue Ellen raking an enormous pile of leaves.
“Can I help, Sue Ellen?” she called.
“Sure, Linda. After we make a big pile, Mother’s going to show me how to make a house of leaves.”
Soon their pile of leaves was higher than both of the girls.
“Let’s run and jump right in the middle!” Sue Ellen shouted.
“Let’s!” agreed Linda.
They ran and jumped plunk into the middle. When they got up, there were leaves in their hair, down their necks, in their shoes, and some were even sticking out of their ears. And they laughed and laughed. “How do you make a house of leaves?” Linda asked.
“I don’t know, but Mother will show us,” Sue Ellen replied.
Sue Ellen’s mother came out with the big rake. “Now then, how many rooms will your house have?” she asked.
Sue Ellen said, “We’ll want a kitchen so we can make gingerbread men and a dining room—”
“And we need a living room and two bedrooms, one for Sue Ellen and one for me,” Linda interjected.
Sue Ellen’s mother raked a square of leaves. Then she said, “We need a door to the porch and one to the dining room and lots of windows.” Then she raked away some of the leaves for the doors and windows.
“Oh, oh, I see!” cried Sue Ellen. “Come on, Linda, let’s make the rest of the rooms.” And soon they had a kitchen and a dining room and a living room and two bedrooms and a porch.
When their house was finished, Sue Ellen said, “Now we need some furniture for our house.”
“I know!” declared Linda, clapping her hands. “Let’s get our dolls and doll furniture and play house.”
After the girls had everything arranged, it was time for lunch and their nap. When their naps were over, Sue Ellen and Linda decided to make a different house. So they raked their leaves up into a pile again and made an even grander house.
About three o’clock Sue Ellen’s mother came out and said, “Knock, knock. May I come in?”
“Oh, Mrs. Anderson, how nice to see you,” Sue Ellen answered. “Do come in.”
“Please have a chair,” Linda said.
“Thank you, I will,” Mrs. Anderson replied. And she sat on a little pile of leaves in the living room.
“I came over to ask if you ladies would take tiffin with me.”
“Oh, yes, we’d love to!” they both answered, giggling.
“I have it all ready, and I thought we could have it at your house. I’ll be back in just a minute.” And faster than you can say one, two, three, she was back with a tray of hot chocolate and hot gingerbread men.
After they finished eating, and when Mrs. Anderson was leaving, she said, “What a lovely house you have!”
“We think so,” Sue Ellen and Linda answered. “Thank you very much for tiffin, and do come again tomorrow.”

Merrell: I was 15 when I received my patriarchal blessing, and it said that music would enable me to unlock doors that would otherwise remain closed, and that I would have a great influence on the world through music. Within a few years things began to happen to me that made its meaning more clear. I was called on a full-time mission to Norway and played in a musical group for eight months while there. I’ve been back from Norway 11 years now, and members from there still tell me of youth who are going on missions because they were influenced by our group and of members who went out and did missionary work after listening to us. While I was in the group, I missed the opportunity to do direct proselyting and had to remind myself that you can do missionary work in other ways. Now I can see more clearly the fruits of those labors.

Annet Nankumba of Upperhill Ward in Nairobi, Kenya, first learned about BYU–Pathway from her Mission President in Cote d’Ivoire. Due to her low grades in high school, Annet was very nervous about pursuing a university education. A few months after returning from her mission, she decided to enroll in PathwayConnect and began her journey towards a bachelor’s degree. This will make her the first university graduate in her family. “PathwayConnect has been a great blessing for me. One of my first courses taught me about having a growth mindset. Unlike before, I now look at failure as an opportunity to grow,” she said.

Annet further explained, “Someone with a fixed mindset fears failure, gives up so quickly when things get tough, and sees themselves as not smart. To stay focused on my education path, I have to be positive and trust in my Heavenly Father who will help me navigate the challenges.” Annet says she has also learned better financial management, which is helping her in her small business. “I have learned to prioritize payment of tithing, and I now feel my Saviour’s guidance more in my life. I am inspired by the weekly devotionals and institute of religion classes; all this is helping to increase my faith in the Saviour. I know that I can accomplish hard things!”

In the Central Valley of California, there are 44 teenagers who will never forget the city of St. George, Utah, with its hospitable people and its beautiful white temple.
The youths’ 18-hour stay there was the culmination of six months of planning, hard work, and cooperation between the youth and adults of the Tulare Ward (Visalia California Stake) and those of the St. George Second Ward.
The moment the weary travelers arrived at the Second Ward chapel after their 500-mile journey, they were met by an enthusiastic crowd of St. George youth who immediately sought out, tagged, and friendshiped each California teenager. Together these new friends shared the experiences of that day and the next. The anticipation of their meeting and their bond of common beliefs seemed to create an instant, comfortable friendship on both sides.
After an official welcome by Bishop Ross Taylor, the young people toured the tabernacle built during the same period in which the temple was constructed. Everywhere there was evidence of pioneer skill, artistry, and devotion.
Following the tabernacle visit, the group toured the Brigham Young Winter Home and caught a glimpse of the life of that great prophet and the times in which he lived.
After dinner in the homes of their hosts, the youth met at the templegrounds for the long-awaited tour. A lovely scene met their eyes. To one teenage girl, Shawna Brown, “the temple stood out like a gleaming jewel, shining forth with the Spirit of the Lord.” In this small, quiet town was the most magnificent building most of them had ever seen, a great sparkling building surrounded by deep-green lawns, a building normally brilliant white, bathed now in the golden glow of a setting sun. As the young people joined the long lines of those waiting to enter, they huddled for warmth in the unfamiliar chill of the southern Utah evening.
Inside there was peace and calm and cheerfully whispered “hello’s” between the white-clothed temple workers and the awed young visitors.
“What impressed me most,” said Julie Peterson, a convert of one year, “was that the workers in the temple were so at peace and so nice. I want to work there when I become older. Most of all, I know that I’ll marry in the temple, no matter what!” Liz Myers, a young investigator, commented, “It was beautiful, just walking through. It made me feel so clean inside. It was a great feeling!” Michelle Meadows said that being in the temple felt to her “like a little bit of heaven on earth—it was so peaceful and so beautiful.” As the group was passing through the last sealing room, one of the workers whispered to Claire Forman, “This is where you’re going to be married.” She answered, “Oh, yes!” Now, recalling that experience, Claire says, “There is no way I would even consider marrying outside the temple.”
The tour was over too soon. Too soon they stood once more outside the great building looking up at its inscription, “Holiness to the Lord.” But the influence of those few minutes may never end. To David Anderson, it brought greater meaning to going on a mission, coming back to get married for time and all eternity, and living a righteous life.
“We realized,” said Ruben Ruiz, “that the temple is the house of the Lord and that it was built for a purpose. We realized that the work done in the temple is sacred and that you need to be worthy to enter.”
Following the temple visit, the combined fireside in the Second Ward cultural hall concluded the evening. Three young St. George couples related the strength and meaning that temple marriage had brought into their lives.
The final event of the trip occurred the following morning among the red sandstone cliffs of Snow’s Canyon. Never had pancakes—complete with juice, bacon, and eggs—tasted so good. Following breakfast, the youth—lured by the cliffs around the little tree-and-sagebrush-covered valley—clambered up the sloping walls, which seemed almost stair-stepped for their benefit. Campers who chanced to be in the canyon that morning must have been startled as the hills literally burst forth into song. The final rendition was “I Am a Child of God,” sung by the Tulare teenagers from their mountaintop loft to their bishop, who stood looking up from the sands below. It was an impromptu, heartfelt expression of their love for him that neither he nor they will ever forget.
As the two groups exchanged addresses and goodbyes—the St. George youth to return to what was left of their late October Saturday, and the California young people to their journey home—no one doubted that all were spiritually richer than before. Bishop Taylor said that because of the enthusiasm of the California youth in their desire to visit the house of the Lord, the hearts of those in St. George had been reawakened to a remembrance of the great blessing of the temple and the particular privilege of living within its very shadow.
The feelings of all might be best summed up by the statement of Tulare’s Laurel class president, Karen McPherson, as she bore her testimony in sacrament meeting the day after the trip: “Bishop Dredge has been pounding into us for years, ‘Get married in the temple! Get married in the temple!’ And now I know why!”

Some years ago a lovely young woman, Jami Palmer, then 12 years of age, was wheeled into my office by her parents. She had been diagnosed with cancer. Surgery would be required. The treatments would be many and the time of recovery long. It was a solemn moment as we visited. Father requested me to join him in blessing his crestfallen daughter who had just had her dreams, her hopes, her plans placed on hold. All of us were weeping. The priesthood blessing was provided.

I have maintained contact with Jami and her family. The years have flown by. She has rendered unlimited service to others through being a spokesperson for the Make-A-Wish Foundation, which blesses youth afflicted with life-threatening diseases. Jami has grown into a beautiful young woman. She is now a student at Brigham Young University. She is healthy. She has been through the refiner’s fire and has had her life prolonged. She gives thanks to all who aided her through these difficult years and especially to her Heavenly Father for her very life today.

A turning point in Jami’s life came early in her treatment for cancer. She and the youth in her ward had planned a hike to Timpanogos Cave. You who have made that hike know the way is steep, and it seems to take forever to reach the cave. Sadly Jami said to her friends, “I won’t be able to make the hike with you.”

“Why not?” they asked.

Jami replied, “I can’t walk.”

There was a silent moment, and then one replied, “Jami, if you can’t walk, then we’ll carry you.” And they did—up and back!

Another story of priesthood service was told a month ago in a ward sacrament meeting. Again, I was there. In this case, the seasoned Melchizedek Priesthood holder didn’t know as he spoke that he was describing exactly what the Lord desires to happen with strengthened priesthood quorums. Here is the gist of his account:

He and a home teaching companion were assigned to serve seven families. Almost all of them did not want visits. When the home teachers went to their apartments, they refused to answer the door. When they telephoned, they did not get an answer. When they left a message, the call was not returned. This senior companion finally resorted to a letter-writing ministry. He even began to use bright yellow envelopes in the hope of getting a response.

One of the seven families was a less-active single sister who had emigrated from Europe. She had two young children.

After many attempts to contact her, he received a text message. She abruptly informed him that she was too busy to meet with home teachers. She had two jobs and was in the military as well. Her primary job was that of a police officer, and her career goal was to become a detective and then return to her native country and continue her work there.

The home teacher never was able to visit with her in her home. He periodically texted her. Every month he sent a handwritten letter, supplemented with holiday cards for each child.

He received no response. But she knew who her home teachers were, how to contact them, and that they would persist in their priesthood service.

Then one day he received an urgent text from her. She desperately needed help. She did not know who the bishop was, but she did know her home teachers.

In a few days, she had to leave the state for a monthlong military training exercise. She could not take her children with her. Her mother, who was going to care for her children, had just flown to Europe to care for her husband, who had a medical emergency.

This less-active single sister had enough money to buy a ticket to Europe for her youngest child but not for her 12-year-old son, Eric.2 She asked her home teacher if he could find a good LDS family to take Eric into their home for the next 30 days!

The home teacher texted back that he would do his best. He then contacted his priesthood leaders. The bishop, who was the presiding high priest, gave him approval to approach members of the ward council, including the Relief Society president.

The Relief Society president quickly found four good LDS families, with children about Eric’s age, who would take him into their homes for a week at a time. Over the next month, these families fed Eric, found room for him in their already crowded apartments or small homes, took him on their previously planned summer family activities, brought him to church, included him in their family home evenings, and on and on.

The families with boys Eric’s age included him in their deacons quorum meetings and activities. During this 30-day period, Eric was in church every Sunday for the first time in his life.

After his mother came home from her training, Eric continued to attend church, usually with one of these four volunteer LDS families or others who had befriended him, including his mother’s visiting teachers. In time, he was ordained a deacon and began passing the sacrament regularly.

Now let us look into Eric’s future. We will not be surprised if he becomes a leader in the Church in his mother’s home country when his family returns there—all because of Saints who worked together in unity, under the direction of a bishop, to serve out of charity in their hearts and with the power of the Holy Ghost.

A visit by a Relief Society president to an inactive deaf sister revealed that it hurt the sister too much to go to meetings and never be able to join in the discussion. As the president left that home, she promised the sister that if she would attend her Relief Society meetings she would be included. The president and her entire board learned to sign. Gratitude, satisfaction, and personal enrichment came as the sisters employed this new skill to respond to the need of that one individual.

An example of focusing on serving others when challenged is President Hinckley, as a discouraged missionary in England. He wrote, "I was not well when I arrived. Those first few weeks, because of illness and the opposition which we felt, I was discouraged. I wrote a letter home to my good father and said that I felt I was wasting my time and his money." His father's advice was "forget yourself and go to work." He followed his father's counsel and would later call this his "day of decision" that would lay a positive course for the rest of his life.[13]

Martin enjoyed reading the Book of Mormon and recognized the Spirit and direction it provided in his life. A few months later, after receiving a personal testimony, Martin Biney was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. As a new member of the Church, Martin attended every week, but for many years, his wife and children stayed home. Brother Biney states, “After I was baptized and received the gift of the Holy Ghost, I felt blessed. I had more confidence and felt impressed to go back to boxing.”
The Lord blessed Martin and, in 1997, at the age of 34, Martin Biney again became the middleweight boxing champion in Japan.

Just before April conference in 1986, our missionary son David wrote home: “President Benson has been in Ohio. He’s pushing the Book of Mormon hard and wants us to use it even more in our missionary work. Our Regional Representative told us he’s going to ask the Church members to read the Book of Mormon daily. You’d better get ahead and start reading now! I’m doing great. I’ve never felt better in my life.”
How those words touched me! It had been 15 years ago that the Book of Mormon became an integral part of David’s life. I had read it to him as he lay in bed, at life’s edge.
“What are you reading, Mommy?” David asked in the faintest whisper of a sound. His delicate face closely matched the color of the snowy pillowcase. Deep red drops of blood, descending from a bottle suspended above, provided a vivid contrast as they dropped through a tube into his motionless white arm.
“The Book of Mormon,” I replied. It helped me through the endless hours of watching my son fight a seemingly insurmountable battle. It was supposed to be minor surgery to correct a small health problem, but the whole procedure had become a nightmare. Face to face with the fragile quality of mortality, I groped for an anchor with eternity.
“Read it to me,” David said.
“But you wouldn’t understand it, David,” I told him. “You’re too young. Later, when you’re well and at home, I’ll read you some stories from the Book of Mormon.”
Again the whispered words, urgent this time. “Please read it to me, Mommy.”
Not knowing what else to do, and not wishing to further upset him, I began in First Nephi: “I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents, …” I intended to read a few lines while he drifted off to sleep, and then continue my silent reading. Every time I thought he was asleep, my voice quieted and quit. Then, from the hospital bed, again and again, I heard, “Read it to me.”
And so I read it to him. I read all during the hospital stay, and then at home, where he lay attached to two tubes that drained fluids from his body into bags, one on each leg. Doctors had discovered a congenital defect that gave him only part of one kidney.
I did not read stories from the Book of Mormon. I read from the book itself. One morning, after David’s two sisters had gone to school and his two little brothers were sleeping, we sat together reading as usual. I stopped and looked down at him. “David, do you understand this?”
His blue eyes looked thoughtfully into mine. “Not all. But some of it.”
When I continued reading he stopped me and said, “Mother, kneel down.” Startled by the request, I simply knelt, feeling his small body at my side. Then, totally trusting, he said, “Now pray for me. Pray that I will understand the Book of Mormon.”
By the time we finished the book, David had turned five and was able to recognize and read many of the words on his own. Eventually he read alone. His health improved and, by the time he was baptized, he had read the whole thing by himself more than once. By the time he was ordained a deacon, he was eagerly preparing for a mission.
But during his sophomore year in high school, his physical condition worsened. His one remaining kidney deteriorated rapidly, and a transplant became necessary to save his life. His father was the donor. The eve of the surgery brought our ward members together in prayer and fasting. David was the happiest one present. “I don’t know why everyone is so worried,” he said. “This just means that I can make serious plans for my mission.” And by this time, daily reading of the Book of Mormon had become a habit that sustained him through his recovery.

As a teenager, I didn’t like going to church, so I didn’t know much about the Bible or about God, nor did I want to. When I was 17, a friend of mine told me she was a Mormon. I had no idea what a Mormon was. I told my friend, “If I want to know anything about that Church, I’ll find out on my own.”
Seeing that I wasn’t too concerned about religion, she gave me a Book of Mormon and asked me to read it and pray about it. She didn’t pressure me. Later that night as I opened the book, I noticed her testimony written in the front. As I read it, I felt that I should learn more about the Book of Mormon. So I started reading 1 Nephi. I could not put the book down. I needed to know more.
In a family home evening, her family taught me about the gospel of Jesus Christ. Everything seemed to make sense. Soon I was taught by the missionaries and baptized and confirmed a member of the Lord’s true Church. The gospel helped me know who I am, where I came from, and where I could go if I am faithful.
As I look back, I can see how the Holy Ghost helped me want to learn more. As I learned more, my attitude about church and God changed. For the first time in my life, I wanted to do what He wanted me to do.
The Book of Mormon changed my life, and I’m thankful for my friend who shared it with me. A true friend shares vital information such as this.

I remember Christmases from my childhood, and they remind me of the love and preparation that my parents went through to provide great experiences for us at Christmas. To show my age, I remember a Christmas when I dearly wanted what some of my friends already had: J. C. Penney walkie-talkies. We used them to play army. Imagine the dim recesses of time before the cell phones and twittering you now experience. Contact was not constant then. I know there are some here managing text and twitter contacts even as I speak, arranging dates or Christmas travel or taunting a Yankees fan that the Red Sox won the World Series.

On that Christmas long ago in the sixties, I thought walkie-talkies cost so much that I had no hope of getting a set. When I got one, it was a miracle that I still remember with a little frisson of happiness. Almost immediately I went out with my friends on that Christmas day in Arizona to use our walkie-talkies to play army, as was our custom in those days, complete with gun sounds and medics who would attend to you after you had been wounded. Those medics would come up to the wounded and shamanistically wave their hands, muttering the magic words “Fix, fix, fix,” and you were back in the game.

I realize that acting out such a bloody scenario today could be seen as troubling and would violate most schools’ safe-school policies if it occurred during recess. Times have changed. Television in my childhood consisted of a grand total of three to five channels—one from Mexico showing bullfights and one an educational channel. Then prime time included weekly doses of the popular TV showCombat! with Vic Morrow, et al., or Twelve O’Clock High and other such shows based on World War II.

It’s a little different today. Today most of you don’t know that Jimmy Stewart, star of the Christmas classics Mr. Krueger’s Christmas and It’s a Wonderful Life, served through the horrors of World War II as a wing commander flying B-17s with great courage and skill. Most of you were not raised by a decorated World War II combat veteran who saw and inflicted horrific death as a B-17 pilot, flying daylight bombing raids over Germany when he was younger than most of you. And yet after the hell that such parents and society had experienced, such men and women as my parents, and perhaps your grandparents or great-grandparents, through Christmas and throughout our lives, protected us and let us be children untouched by the horrors they had waded through. They even let us play war without scaring us too much about what it actually meant. They knew that Christ hasn’t promised we can avoid the horrors this world is capable of inflicting upon us. They also knew that we are to become as little children by choice, despite the world’s horrors.

Four years ago, my institute teacher, Brother Suresh Natrajan, asked the class, “How many of you have gone to the temple?” Because my wife, Anantha, and I had made the 10-hour trip to the Hong Kong China Temple for the first time the year before, I raised my hand proudly. Then he asked another question: “Do you remember what covenants you made in the temple?”
His question was thoughtful. There was so much to take in during my first time in the temple. While I had tried to be attentive, after all that time, I realized I had forgotten the covenants that I made in the temple. At that very moment, I made the decision to go back to temple for the second time and this time to pay attention to and remember the covenants I made and other things that are essential for my salvation.
Time passed. I was facing terrible trials in my life. But I was enrolled in an institute class, and one day we had a lesson on the prophet Jonah. Jonah didn’t do what the Lord commanded him to do. One of the verses that caught my attention was Jonah 2:4: “Then I said, I am cast out of thy sight; yet I will look again toward thy holy temple.”
This scripture touched my heart, and I prayed to Heavenly Father to give me and my wife another chance to visit the temple.
After four years, Heavenly Father blessed us to again enter His house, this time in the Taipei Taiwan Temple.
Mahesh and Anantha Vedurupaka in front of the Taipei Taiwan Temple.
While there, I had the opportunity to perform ordinances on behalf of my uncle who had died of cancer. When I was being baptized for him, I thought about the blessings he would receive through this temple ordinance. I was so happy, and I recognized what the temple president told me when I had come to the temple for the first time and had been a little bit confused. He told me, “Brother, you may not understand all of what you are doing right now, but a day will come when you will feel you have done great things here.”
I got my answer. It has taken me four years to understand by visiting the temple for the second time.
Now while partaking of the sacrament each and every week, I remember how powerful the Atonement of Jesus Christ is and how sacred the covenants I have made in the temple are.
This year is mine and my wife’s 10th wedding anniversary. I want to celebrate it in the temple and perform sealing ordinances for my ancestors. To do this, I have been working a second job apart from my regular job, one that doesn’t affect my time with my family.
I know and I feel that temple work is real. Nothing can replace it, and it’s worth any sacrifice to attend the temple and do Heavenly Father’s work for ourselves and for souls who are on the other side of the veil.

In my profession as a farmer and a rancher, I’ve had a front-row seat to observe how a mother’s natural affection manifests itself even in nature. Each spring we take a herd of cows and their new calves up along Idaho’s Snake River, where they graze in the foothills for a month or so. Then we round them up and bring them down a road that leads to the corral. From there they are loaded onto trucks that carry them to their summer pastures in Montana.
On one particularly hot spring day, I was helping with the roundup by riding at the back of the herd as it moved down the dusty road toward the corral. My job was to gather any calves that had wandered from the road. The pace was slow and provided me some time to think.
Because it was so hot, the little calves kept running off into the trees to find shade. My thoughts turned to the youth of the Church who are sometimes distracted from the strait and narrow path. I also thought about those who have left the Church or who may feel that the Church has left their hearts while they were distracted. I thought to myself that a distraction doesn’t have to be evil to be effective—sometimes it can just be shade.
After several hours of gathering up stray calves and with sweat running down my face, I yelled to the calves in frustration, “Just follow your mothers! They know where they’re going! They’ve been down this road before!” Their mothers knew that even though the road was hot and dusty now, the end would be better than the beginning.
As soon as we got the herd into the corral, we noticed that three of the cows were pacing nervously at the gate. They could not find their calves and seemed to sense they were back on the road somewhere. One of the cowboys asked me what we should do. I said, “I bet I know where those calves are. Back a quarter of a mile [0.4 km] or so, there’s a stand of trees. I’m sure we’ll find them there.”
Sure enough, just as I had suspected, we found our lost calves taking a nap in the shade. Our approach startled them, and they resisted our efforts to round them up. They were frightened because we were not their mothers! The more we tried to push them toward the corral, the more stubborn they became. Finally I said to the cowboys, “I’m sorry. I know better than this. Let’s ride back and let their mothers out of the corral. The cows will come and get their calves, and the calves will follow their mothers.” I was right. The mother cows knew exactly where to go to find their calves, and they led them back to the corral, as I had expected.

The last day of her fifth-grade year was a day Rose would never forget. She was 11 years old, quiet, and shy. But she loved being with her friends and playing games in which she competed with them.
And that day was a day of outdoor competitions. Rose thought, I can choose to do whatever I want today at the games!
A few teachers had set up games and races for the children. Rose and her two best friends, Tricia and Kelly, decided to help some of the teachers set things up. Rose had a lot of fun helping her own teacher, Mr. Charles, put up signs and get the first-, second-, and third-place ribbons ready for the winners.
Of course, Rose wanted to be one of the winners. In fact, she thought, I sure would like a first-place ribbon to take home!
At last the fun began. Rose, Tricia, and Kelly competed in several games together. Each of them won second- and third-place ribbons.
After a while, Kelly decided she wanted to help the first-grade teacher with the sack race, and Tricia wanted to enter the drawing contest. Rose didn’t know what else she wanted to do, so she decided to walk around.
The peanut race looked like it would be fun. She watched the younger children’s division and saw that it was no ordinary race. She clapped her hands as the winner got to the finish line—it was her happy little neighbor, Andi Marie.
When she signed up for her own division, Rose saw that about nine other girls had entered. She didn’t know any of them very well, but they all seemed to be friends.
The teacher in charge, Mr. Stevens, was one of the favorite teachers in the school. He handed each girl a peanut and a little, flat wooden spoon and explained the rules. “First, place the peanut on the spoon. When I blow the whistle, go as fast as you can toward the finish line, trying not to let the peanut fall off. If it does, stop, pick it up, put it back on your spoon, and continue the race. The first one who crosses the finish line will be the winner. No cheating!”
As Mr. Stevens headed for the finish line, which seemed very far away, Rose saw that many kids had gathered along both sides of the racecourse. Her heart began to pound.
The whistle blew, and off they went! Rose was determined to win, but it was harder than she’d thought it would be. Every few steps the peanut rolled off her spoon. She kept stopping to pick it up, put it back on her spoon, and hurry on. It was fun at first, but then she heard some kids laughing. The laughter got louder and louder. Mr. Stevens was yelling out over the noise, “Come on, keep it up! You can make it!”
When she dared to glance up, she saw that all the other girls had already crossed the finish line. How could they have gotten there so fast? Rose wondered. They were laughing, too—and hooting—at her: “You’re too slow! We all beat you! Ha-ha-ha!”
All eyes were on Rose. The peanut kept rolling off, and she kept picking it up as even the bystanders laughed and made fun.
She was only halfway down the racecourse. Her face flushed bright red with embarrassment, and the next time the peanut rolled off, she stopped, picked it up, and walked off the course. What’s the use of going on? she asked herself. She just wanted to go home or hide someplace.
Feeling a tap on her shoulder, she turned around to see a concerned Mr. Stevens. When he asked why she had walked off, all she could do was shrug. If she had tried to speak, she would have cried.
She never forgot what Mr. Stevens said to her then: “You should have kept going. Even if you had come in last, you would have been the winner. Didn’t you know that all the other girls had their thumbs on the peanuts? They all cheated. You were the only one who was honest. I’m proud of you for that, but you didn’t win the race because you gave up.”
“You gave up” kept ringing in her ears. She didn’t like those words. She felt good about being honest, but she felt bad about giving up. She didn’t believe in being a quitter, but she had quit anyway. If she hadn’t, she would now be a happy winner with a first-place ribbon!

When I was growing up, whenever we got any money, my mother would take the very best bills—the ones that were the least wrinkled or dirty—and give them to the minister of the church we went to. She did this her whole life. She said, “This belongs to God.” Those words have stayed with me ever since. When I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as an adult, it was not hard for me to pay tithing because my mother had taught me to obey that law.

Dear April,
Two days until we get to Oklahoma. I cried so much when we drove away this morning. I don’t know if I’ll have any friends there. I miss you.
Best friends forever,
Ashley
July 14
Dear April,
We got here last night. The moving vans came this morning and there are boxes everywhere. I have six weeks until school starts. I think it’s going to be a lonely summer. I miss you!
Best friends forever,
Ashley
P.S. My dad gave me a blessing that I will do well and make friends here. I am starting to feel less scared.
July 20
Dear April,
How are you doing? There are only two other girls in my class at church! And one of them is already almost 12. But the other girl is our age. Her name is Heather. She is quiet, but nice. She and I will be going to the same school. The kids in the ward here go to three different schools. It’s so different, but it’s also the same—same songs, same lessons. My mom says that’s one great thing about the Church—it is the same wherever you go. I just wish you were here too.
Best friends forever,
Ashley
August 1
Dear April,
Yesterday I went to Heather’s for her birthday. Some other girls were there who will be in our class when school starts. Heather likes scrapbooking, just like we do. I hope you really do get to come and visit next year. You will be amazed at how flat Oklahoma is! It is pretty in its own way.
Best friends forever,
Ashley
August 16
Dear April,
How are you? I miss you! Thank you for the birthday card! For my birthday I am going to the movies with Heather and my mom and her mom. I think it will be fun to do that instead of having a big party. Anyway, thanks again! Your card was so cute!
Best friends forever,
Ashley
August 24
Dear April,
I had such a fun birthday! My mom got me a box of scrapbooking stuff. Heather and I have been having a lot of fun with it. I think it’s neat that you gave a talk on the Holy Ghost at your sister’s baptism. I bet you did great. School starts tomorrow. Yikes! I know you are praying for me, and I am so glad about that. I need it!
Best friends forever,
Ashley
August 30
Dear April,
I survived the first week of school. It is going to be OK. Heather and I are the only members of the Church in fourth grade. Before I moved here Heather didn’t always tell people about the Church because she is shy, but together we do OK. She’s a good friend. How do you feel about having more than one best friend?
Best friends forever,
Ashley
September 15
Dear April,
I am so glad you understand about Heather. After I sent that last letter, I was worried your feelings would be hurt. I know we are both sad that we don’t get to be together all the time. But I love writing letters! I was thinking today about how nervous I was to move here. But it’s starting to feel like home now. The most important thing is being with my family!
Best friends forever (and best pen pals!),
Ashley

One young man at age 13 commenced having his eyes rotated, through the seemingly simple act of opening-what looked to him to be-just another magazine.
But things are not always the way they appear to be.
Little did this little boy know, that he was opening a Pandora's box that would turn his life-and his views of life and love-upside down!
Initially, he was repulsed by what he saw, but then, through repeated viewing, his heart and mind began to crave what his eyes saw. As he immersed himself in more and more pornography, he barely noticed the rotating of his eyes-along with the twisting of his mind, and the hardening of his heart!
He started to believe that everyone looked at love and at life the way he did. He started to believe that lust was really love, and that all love was, was lust. His goal in life became to have one intense lust-filled experience after another. But, there was never enough lust to fill.
Because, remember: You can never sin enough to make you happy!
He participated in illicit sexual experiences prior to, and following, his mission-seeing them as no big deal.. And besides- there was always repentance. A quick confession to the Bishop every now and then....and then, out the door for more and more lust-filled experiences. But once again....there was never enough.
Little did he realize just what sexual sin was doing to his views of himself, his life, his wife-to-be, and their relationship.
Never did he imagine that sexual sin was actually decreasing his ability to identify, and really know, true love and true marital intimacy.
Never did he imagine that so many of the things the world was telling him to do, in order to increase his enjoyment of sexual experiences-were actually making it almost impossible for him to ever experience true sexual intimacy!
Never did he imagine that he was being duped by the adversary-so that real sexual fulfillment would always be-just beyond his reach.
With his eyes so drastically and devilishly "rotated", he approached his wife on their honeymoon in a manner that made her feel " like a thing". He experienced his wife's refusal to participate in certain sexual activities, as proof that she didn't really love him. He was put off!
What was wrong with her? How cold and non-responsive could she be!
Rejection and loneliness became his constant companions.
And because of his severe "eye rotation":
Wrong looked right.Right looked naiveLust looked like love.Love looked like control.
And pornography looked like his only fun, only friend, only refuge.
An anaesthetic to numb his intense pain and ever increasing loneliness.
With his continuing immersion in pornography-which riveted his eyes into their destructively rotated position:
But things are not always the way they appear to be.
Over time, pain and confusion started to re-emerge. He couldn't see, think, or feel straight. He couldn't tell what was real-and what was illusion.
The day his wife put all his belongings out on the front lawn, and left a note indicating that she was filing for divorce, was like a whack on the side of his head.
A beneficial whack, that momentarily corrected his vision-reversing the adversary's "rotation" process.
He saw his life for what it really was....a crying shame! And he cried. And he felt ashamed.
Suddenly, sexual sin looked stupid...and he realized how stupid it had made him. His past choices-that had looked like freedom-now looked like chains. His affair looked like one gigantic death trap! His wife looked loving and patient, rather than pushy and cold. Prayer now looked like the sure refuge from the storms of his raging emotions. And so he prayed. He prayed as he had never prayed before. He prayed for freedom from the lustful feelings that held him captive. And he fasted-for courage and for endurance.
His initial humiliation grew into true humility. Regret, turned into remorse, and into a sincere desire to thoroughly repent of his adultery.
In this state, the Spirit returned to his life, and started the process of permanently reversing the adversary's rotation of his eyes, so that he could see things are they really are.
But the process was not easy! One main reason for the intense difficulty in correcting this man's vision was that, although he had been immersed in the waters of baptism when he was eight, his experience with the Gospel since that time, consisted only of a little sprinkling: a little sprinkling of a quick prayer from time to time, a little sprinkling of a few scriptures here and there. Church attendance-but never a time of worshiping and seeking after God. Fasting, only because his parents demanded it.
This intermittent sprinkling of Gospel truths in his life, gave this man only enough experience with the Gospel to feel guilty, but not enough experience to feel joy-the kind of joy that comes through immersion in the Gospel-regular immersion, for example, in prayer, scripture study, temple worship, and fasting.
Are you sprinkling your life with the Gospel-or are you immersing yourself in it?
Tragically, the only thing this man had immersed himself in, since his immersion in the waters of baptism, was pornography-which President Hinckley has termed, "the literature of Lucifer."[7]
Therefore, this man didn't have a reservoir of experiences with the Spirit, from which to draw-a reservoir that could have given him rejuvenating strength, for the rigorous days of change ahead.
At one point, when the process of change became so intensely discouraging, this man turned all of his feelings completely off!! "I have to numb myself" he told me. What a sad irony! This man, who had seen himself as being so passionate, was now unable to feel anything, for anyone. In every way, he was "past feeling."[8]
It was only as he avoided everything and anything that was sexually explicit, or even suggestive, and only as he regularly and relentlessly immersed himself in experiences with the Spirit, that the evil "rotation" of his eyes was corrected.
Slowly, he began to see that if he wanted real excitement in his life, obedience to the Lord's commandments was the only way to go. He had learned by sad experience that while sin looks exciting, sin and its consequences are pathetically predictable!
He started to see that while obedience used to look so boring, he soon discovered that it is obedience that unlocks the door to a thrill a minute. He came to experience that when the Lord knows He can trust you, it's almost impossible to imagine what magnificent experiences await![9]
He began to see that purity and passion go together. That "pure passion"-meaning, that passion which has been purified by the Holy Ghost-and therefore, is magnified, expanded and enhanced--is always greater, in every way, than impure passion![10]

“Congratulations, José,” Bishop García said. He handed me my new temple recommend.
“Thank you!” I said. I shook his hand and walked out of the office, staring down at the white paper. I could go to the temple to do baptisms!
My abuelos (grandparents) were waiting in the hall. My parents didn’t come to church very often, so I usually went to church with Abuela and Abuelo. They both gave me a hug.
“Are you excited for your first temple trip next week?” Abuelo asked as we walked out of the building. “We’ll take a bus to the Santo Domingo Temple.”
“Yes!” I said. But I couldn’t help noticing a funny, fluttery feeling in my stomach.
“It will be so nice to go together as a family,” Abuela said with a big smile.
I smiled back, but the funny feeling didn’t go away.
As the day of the temple trip got closer, I got more nervous. I finally talked to Abuela about it.
She was chopping vegetables in the kitchen, but she stopped when I came in. “What’s wrong?” she asked, wiping her hands on a towel. “You look worried.”
I sighed and sat down at the table. “I’m really excited to go to the temple. But I’m also nervous.”
Abuela nodded, like she understood how I felt. “You don’t need to worry. People will be there to help you the whole time.”
As she spoke, I felt a warm, comforting feeling from my head to my toes. I knew the temple would be special.
Soon the day of our temple trip came. I put on my Sunday clothes and combed my hair. Abuela came into my room.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Excited! I can’t wait to go to the temple.”
Abuela sat on the end of my bed and pulled a piece of paper from her pocket.
“This is a temple ordinance card,” she said. “It’s for my brother. He was very special to me. He died before he could be baptized. Would you like to be baptized for him in the temple today?”
Abuela held out the paper to me. I read the name: Ramon Rodriguez. I could tell Abuela loved her brother, and I was glad she trusted me to get baptized for him.
“Of course, Abuela. Thanks!” I carefully put the card in my pocket.
While riding the bus to the temple, Abuela told about when she went to the temple for the first time with Abuelo. Back then, they had to go all the way to Peru because there wasn’t a temple in the Dominican Republic.
When we got to the temple, Bishop García was already there. My eyes widened as we walked up to the building. It was so beautiful! I paused to read the words above the doors: Holiness to the Lord: The House of the Lord.
As I walked through the doors, I knew I was entering a special space. All my worries seemed to melt away. Everything was quiet and calm. I felt peace.
After changing into white clothes, I stood in the baptismal font with Bishop García. I listened carefully as he said the words of the baptismal prayer. When he said Ramon’s name, a peaceful feeling filled me.
Bishop García lowered me into the water. When I came up, I was smiling. I couldn’t wait to come to the temple again!